


tease

by gnetophyta



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Heavy sass, Light Bondage, M/M, Matsukawa being a HUGE tease, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, There's a blindfold involved, Two thirsty memes in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnetophyta/pseuds/gnetophyta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanamaki has a rough week and Matsukawa takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tease

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aokisecchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aokisecchi/gifts).



> Friend, I hope you enjoy this offering! It's shameless smut and was insanely fun to write for these two goofs. Hope you enjoy xo
> 
>  
> 
> (PSA: Use condoms, friends!)

            There’s a reason why Hanamaki calls Matsukawa an asshole. It has nothing to do with his regular behaviour, no; Matsukawa treats him better than he deserves, except for behind closed doors. If there is one thing Hanamaki would like for all their friends to know, it’s that Matsukawa is the world’s biggest fucking asshole of a tease and it _kills_ him. There are times when Hanamaki’s dear boyfriend will be open to slow, tender lovemaking, but most of the time, he likes to see Hanamaki sob, squirm, twitch, scream and _beg_ for it. Hanamaki should have known this about Matsukawa even before the first time they had slept together, but he’s always done a good job of hiding his devious ways in the quirkof his lips and his half-lidded eyes.

            For all his complaining, though, Hanamaki has never had better sex in his life. He loves the way Matsukawa makes him come undone, how he draws the filthiest sounds out of him night after night. This Friday in particular, after a long day of passive-aggressive work emails, too-weak coffee and absentee bosses, Hanamaki just wants to unwind. He’s just crossing the threshold of their apartment when Matsukawa pops his head out of the kitchen, grinning lopsidedly. He crosses the space between them in a few easy strides, drawing Hanamaki’s attention with the low-slung grey sweatpants just barely clinging to his hips. Just to be extra unfair, he’s also missing a shirt. Oh heavens, how terrible.

            “You know I hate you for having half days on Fridays, right? It’s just not fair.” Hanamaki whines, hanging his coat up and dropping his messenger bag in the hall entrance. Matsukawa cups his cheek, leaning in to press their lips together tenderly. He chuckles at Hanamaki’s angry huff.

            “And _you_ know that’s because I have longer days Monday through Thursday.” Matsukawa’s hands smooth down Hanamaki’s white dress shirt, the fabric mussed from a day of running around, and settle on his waist.

            “It doesn’t count. It’s like the age-old question: if Issei gets up before the alarm and Takahiro doesn’t witness it, does it really happen?” Hanamaki leans in to kiss beneath Matsukawa’s jaw, humming appreciatively when his head tips back to allow for easier access.

            “Take your shoes off. I’ve got a fun night planned for you.” The shift in Matsukawa’s features from playful to predatory is instant and Hanamaki’s response is Pavlovian. He can already feel a stirring in his gut from the heat in Matsukawa’s gaze.

            “Not wasting time?”

            “Take off your shoes and get in the bedroom. Leave everything else on. Keep the lights off.” Hanamaki doesn’t need to be told twice. He toes off his shoes and walks briskly to the bedroom, heart rate spiking dramatically in anticipation. He’s about to suffer, but he’s going to love every minute of it. Hanamaki is twisting the knot in his tie, loosening it while he waits at the foot of the bed. Of course, Matsukawa is making him wait. When he finally rounds the corner, he’s running those long, capable fingers through his messy curls, watching Hanamaki’s blood pressure rise visibly higher. He knows what he’s capable of, and it’s that cocky swagger that sets Hanamaki off every time. Matsukawa scoops something dark off the dresser, coiling what appears to be rope around one of his hands. Hanamaki is mesmerized, and half-hard at the prospect of what’s about to be done to him. The only illumination in the room is the yellow glow of streetlights filtering through the blinds, and it throws both men into sharp perspective. Matsukawa’s gaze is fierce and feral, his eyes glowing ethereally before he claims Hanamaki’s lips with purpose. Hanamaki’s breaths are coming short and fast when Matsukawa’s hands come up to hold his face, the rough rope pressing into his skin.

            “Excited already, love?” Matsukawa murmurs, mouthing at the unmarked stretch of neck before him. He nudges a thigh between Hanamaki’s legs and feels the tremors beneath his lips.

            “Yes- oh, God-yes.” It’s hard for Hanamaki to form complete sentences because Matsukawa’s hands are running down his arms, and are then deftly undoing his belt. He inhales sharply when the buckle clanks, the whole thing hitting the ground noisily. Hanamaki gathers enough of his wits about him to actually engage Matsukawa, and he presses his fingers into the small of his back, delighting in the fact that goosebumps erupt across the skin almost instantly. He leans in to kiss Matsukawa again, and behind him, the sound of cords hitting their sheets is deafening in the silence. Hanamaki moans breathily when Matsukawa licks into his mouth, hands now gripping his hips almost painfully. Unsure of whether he’ll get punished for it, though he secretly hopes he will, Hanamaki rolls his hips against the firm muscle of Matsukawa’s thigh and gasps when he’s pulled closer. The taste of friction has made him hungrier, but Matsukawa’s not helping him work towards his release just yet. He withdraws his leg, pulls back from their kiss, and stares Hanamaki down.

            “Done already?” Hanamaki teases with a raised eyebrow.

            “Get on the bed.”

            “So-“

            “Get on the bed and strip.” Matsukawa’s voice is almost a growl, and Hanamaki crawls back onto the sheets, hands flying up to undo his shirt buttons. He’s somehow peeled the sweat-damp button down off of himself, and is fumbling with his zipper when Matsukawa kneels between his legs. They hold eye contact for agonizing minutes while Hanamaki attempts to shuck off his slacks, and Matsukawa just watches him, licking his lips. He’s only just managed to hastily yank off his socks and hook his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs when Matsukawa grabs his wrists. This is where the fun begins. Hanamaki’s underwear is already damp with precome, his erection straining against the material that Matsukawa accidentally-on-purpose brushes as he crawls up his body. The cruel man straddles Hanamaki’s chest and bends so he can coil the rope around both of his wrists and around one of the vertical posts of their headboard. Hanamaki’s hips are bucking up helplessly as he eyes the visible tent in Matsukawa’s sweatpants. He notes that Matsukawa clearly isn’t wearing underwear.

            “Can I, please?” Matsukawa watches Hanamaki’s eyes flick from his face down to the damp spot on the pants.

            “Not yet, no. I can wait.” Forgetting that his hands are tied, Hanamaki tries to move them and is met with firm resistance. He looks up at Matsukawa to nod subtly, letting him know it doesn’t hurt. Satisfied, Matsukawa crawls back down slowly, stopping when he’s eye level with the ever-growing wet spot at the front of Hanamaki’s briefs. He flattens his tongue and licks over the fabric, wetting it further, a smirk growing across his face.

            “Oh, please-“ Hanamaki whimpers, but any movement of his hips is halted by Matsukawa’s firm grip.

            “I haven’t even gotten started, love.” The shudder that wracks Hanamaki’s body is all that Matsukawa needs. He peels the boxers off quickly, ignoring the hiss Hanamaki makes no effort to suppress, and sits next to him. “You’re going to get off without me touching you at all.” Hanamaki’s eyebrows knot together and he stares down his naked body in confusion. He can’t imagine how he could possibly achieve an orgasm without any touching. Matsukawa snorts at his concerned expression and pulls off his mismatched socks before grabbing the remaining rope. Once Hanamaki’s ankles are tied down firmly, the corner of Matsukawa’s mouth twitches upwards into what Hanamaki knows is a very, very _dangerous_ smile. The next thing he knows, there’s silk tied over his eyes, and all he can hear is the sound of his frantic heartbeat and Matsukawa rustling the sheets. Every nerve ending in Hanamaki’s body is on fire, thrumming with anticipation as the mattress shifts. The prickle of Matsukawa’s proximity drives him crazy, and he arches his back in hopes of meeting the warm body he knows so well.

            “Nope. None of that.” The stern tone of voice is enough. Hanamaki forces his needier impulses to still and his breathing to calm. Once again, Matsukawa’s presence has him burning from the inside, and it’s all he can do to not cry out when he feels the ghost of fingers trail down one thigh. The bastard’s not even deigning to touch him, but his fingers are close enough to ignite the spark in Hanamaki’s veins. Matsukawa starts to trace patterns starting at Hanamaki’s neck, almost, but not quite touching him the entire way. He flattens a palm over the chiseled planes of his chest, still hovering maddeningly close to the skin, and moves it leisurely enough that Hanamaki’s body subconsciously rolls to follow. Matsukawa never allows the two to meet, however; he wants to hear Hanamaki’s desperate pleas and whimpers. Around the lower belly is when Hanamaki starts to tremble. He can feel the tension between Matsukawa’s lithe fingers and the taut skin of his abs, and he _needs_ to be touched. He’s aching for it, and he’s been so _good._ Matsukawa pauses a moment to drink in the sight of sweat-slick Hanamaki shaking with the effort of keeping his body still, his teeth dug firmly into too-pink lips, knuckles white from gripping his binds. He wishes he could see Hanamaki’s eyes, knowing they are likely wild with desire, pleading, hoping for sweet release that he won’t get for a while yet. Matsu bites his own bottom lip when a broken ‘please’ tumbles from Hanamaki’s mouth, but he has to be patient. It will be more than worth it for the both of them, and besides, they’ve definitely held out for longer before.

            “You look amazing, love,” Matsukawa purrs, leaning over Hanamaki so his breath skates by his ear, but no part of them touches. Hanamaki tilts his head towards Matsukawa with his lips parted gently, a subtle invitation for a kiss. Tempted though he is, Issei restrains himself, leaving a scant centimeter between them. Takahiro can taste the coffee on his breath and purses his lips to bridge the gap. Matsukawa backs away despite every fiber in his being screaming in opposition.

            “Please, Issei. _Please_.” Makki begs. Matsukawa’s answer is the way he delicately touches his finger to the pearl of precome on the tip of Hanamaki’s cock, but not the head itself. He pulls his finger away and watches the thread connect them with rapt attention.

            “Oh, fuck, I-” Hanamaki’s hips buck once and he’s so turned on that it physically hurts. Matsukawa knows that he has about fifteen minutes more before his boyfriend’s eyes start to tear up from the desperation, and oh, how amazing _Issei_ will sound when it’s a prayer.

            Matsukawa gets off the bed and Hanamaki’s head whips around.

            “Just going to a different part of the bed, don’t worry, love. Spread your legs for me now.” Hanamaki obeys without a second thought, spreading his legs as far as he can in hopes of pleasing Matsukawa. His breathing shallows when he feels Matsu kneeling between his legs, his large presence welcome in, on and around Makki anytime. Issei extends out a hand and lazily traces patterns just above the inside surface of Hanamaki’s lean thighs. They’re still marred from yesterday’s rough romp, but that’s the way Makki likes them. Claimed. Matsukawa ghosts his hand and fingers over every inch of Hanamaki’s thighs on his way down to his ass, his own breath hitching when he sees Makki clench visibly. Up to this point, the room had been silent save for Makki’s shallow breathing and occasional mewl; Matsukawa’s growing tired of the emptiness of the air around them.

            “I know you’re not far now, ‘Hiro. What do you want?” The tone of Matsukawa’s voice when he’s being sultry and teasing is almost enough for Hanamaki, but he parts his dry lips anyway.

            “I want to come _so badly_ , please, please, let me. Please touch me. I’ve been so good, please.”

            “Have you, though?” Hanamaki jolts when he feels the thrum of Matsu’s hand slowly growing nearer to the ring of muscle of his entrance.

            “ _Yes_ ,” Makki gasps, desperate for contact. His eyes are starting to water, but Matsu can’t yet see it. “Please.” Now, it’s a sob. Matsukawa leans forward, pursing his lips. He blows a soft stream of air along the inside of each of Hanamaki’s thighs and watches him twitch and moan helplessly.

            “You don’t want to wait a little bit?” Hanamaki catches the hints of strain in Matsukawa’s voice and he knows his time is nigh.

            “Please, _no_.” Hanamaki’s hips have begun rolling entirely of their own accord and Matsukawa would love nothing more than to drive into that perfect body and fuck Hanamaki until you can’t tell the two of them apart, but. But. There’s a beauty in what he’s doing here, too. Issei’s hands are then circling Takahiro’s cock, but not letting the skin touch, just getting achingly close.

            “How’s this? Is that enough for you, Takahiro, or do you want more?” Matsukawa purrs Hanamaki’s name like it’s something scandalous and filthy. Hanamaki manages to swallow the low whine crawling up his throat, making a facial expression that amuses Matsukawa to no end.

            “ _More. Mor_ - _”_ Matsukawa’s had enough of not touching, and knows Hanamaki is about ready to blow, so he slides back a little on his knees and bends over. Unable to resist teasing even then, Issei opens his mouth and slowly lowers his head with the intention of giving Takahiro an unforgettable blowjob. The heat and moisture of the breath he exhales across the head of Hanamaki’s cock is exactly what Hanamaki wants and has been begging for, what he’s needed _desperately_. Matsukawa’s tongue hasn’t even touched Hanamaki when he arches, crying out and coming mostly in Matsukawa’s mouth. Issei freezes, swallowing, and then he wipes come off his chin and lips. He watches Hanamaki come down off his high, breathing heavily through his mouth.

            “I was- shit, Takahiro, I was all talk when I said you’d come without me touching you, but fuck-”

            “You are a sadistic bastard,” is all that Matsukawa gets in reply, but that’s fine by him. He’s so turned on that it doesn’t matter. He quickly unties Hanamaki’s binds, massaging the reddened skin until he’s swatted away.

            “You don’t want me to?” He asks, cocky persona completely gone. Hanamaki slips off the blindfold.

            “Do it after.” Makki reaches over to the drawer and flings some lube at Matsu to subtly indicate what he’s interested in doing for the next little while. Matsukawa grabs it, pouring some on his fingers and letting it warm while he kisses the breath out of Hanamaki. They embrace eagerly and sloppily, winding their tongues together and finally letting their sweaty bodies wrap around each other.

            “Have I ever mentioned that you’re-” Makki kisses the words away, running his hands through Matsu’s damp hair. “-fucking amazing?” Hanamaki pulls back.

            “I know.” Hanamaki smirks at Matsukawa’s unimpressed face, just lit up enough by the light from a storefront opposite their building.

            “I love you.” Matsukawa whispers into his neck, mouthing at his pulse point.

            “I know that too.”

            “Dick.” Hanamaki is about to reply, but Matsu’s stretched an arm down and is pushing into him with his index finger. He hums instead. Makki continues making small, pleased sounds while Matsu works him open. He’s not in a rush, and is savouring the way Matsu feels in him. Issei, on the other hand, is fighting his baser impulses. He goes slowly because Hanamaki’s got a smile teasing at the corners of his lips and his eyes are closed in bliss. Matsukawa finds it hard to rush him in the rare moments that he’s so relaxed and quiet, because he’s usually so impatient and demanding (something that Matsukawa loves).

            “Mm-Issei, I know, ahhh-” Matsukawa pushes a second slick finger in. “-that you’re just-fuck yes- watching me because you think I’m cu-” Hanamaki lets out a guttural moan when Matsukawa curls his fingers. Matsu could say the timing is accidental, but there is nothing he loves more than making Makki lose his train of thought. He bites Makki’s shoulder as a playful reprimand.

            “I think you’re what?”

            “You- _fuck-_ ” Matsukawa beams, continuing to massage Hanamaki’s prostate through his squirming. He’s recovered enough, it seems, to start getting hard again, so Matsukawa wriggles back down somewhat ungracefully. His eyes meet Makki’s as he licks up his cock, the corners of his mouth quirking up. Before Hanamaki can release his sass, Matsukawa’s taken all of him in his mouth, lips taut around his half-hard length, tongue curling around the base. Makki promptly forgets his mother tongue. Matsu pushes a third finger in and he can tell that Makki is getting impatient now. He’s hard, his hips are bucking, and he’s clenching like he’s trying to seize Matsu’s fingers. Matsukawa’s mouth slides off his dick with a lewd pop and Hanamaki sighs in frustration, pushing his hips down onto his fingers.

            “What?”

            “Fuck me.”

            “Mmmm, not yet.”

            “Fuck me, Issei.” Matsukawa pinches his thigh, eliciting a very high-pitched yelp.

            “Nope.”

            “I _know_ you’re dying, fuck, just-” Makki’s eyes widen at Matsukawa’s devilish grin. He curls his fingers again and Hanamaki’s back is arching off the bed, breathless moans tumbling off of his lips. Matsu pushes him back down on the mattress with his free hand, squeezing his hip once to tell him to stay.

            “You were so good, and everything. Come on, ‘Hiro. Just a little longer.” Matsukawa is glad that the lube bottle is still uncapped, making it easier for him to surreptitiously spread some on his cock, barely suppressing a hiss at the temperature difference. He’s still thrusting his fingers in and out of Makki, the man a mewling mess. Matsukawa withdraws his hand and laughs at the way Hanamaki glares daggers at him, demanding an explanation with his narrowed eyes. Issei crawls back up his boyfriend’s body and bends down, kissing him once, aggressively, pressing his head back into one of the many pillows strewn about the bed. They both moan into each other’s mouths, starting to tease with lips and tongues. Matsukawa takes the opportunity to line his dick up to a distracted Hanamaki, pushing in slowly to draw out the way Makki multiplies the number of syllables in his name.

            “Is that what you wanted, babe?”

            “N-no. You’re not- ah- moving.” For a brief moment, Hanamaki thinks Matsukawa is going to just torment him again, but he’s not aware of how Matsu’s self-control hangs by a thread. The heat and pressure and the intimacy of it _all_ never grows old for Matsukawa, his yearning for Hanamaki never gets any lesser, no matter how many times they go through these motions in however many combinations. For Hanamaki, he’s happy if Matsukawa is next to, on top of, inside, or around him in any way. Sometimes he’s a little needier for one over the others, and this time in particular, his interest lies in being railed into the headboard. Matsu grabs Makki’s hips and curls them upwards so he can pick up a devastating pace that will guarantee he’ll be at the right angle to break Hanamaki in the best possible way. He thrusts slowly and shallowly at first just to torment his favourite person, but then Makki digs his heels into his lower back and pulls Matsu in, tearing away the last shreds of his self control. Matsukawa slides his arms down and underneath Makki’s shoulders, grabbing on and holding him still so he can thrust into him with impunity. Hanamaki’s wanton moans drown out all of the low grunts of effort Matsukawa is making, but not for long. Matsu’s breathing hard, lifting his head so he’s almost nose to nose with Makki, and his hips stutter when he catches sight of the unguarded, _adoring_ look in Hanamaki’s eyes. Issei blinks a few times in quick succession, resuming his earlier pace, desire burning through his veins. Makki’s moved his hands from the damp, wrung-out sheets to Matsu’s back, digging his blunt nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

            “Ah-fuck-“ Matsu can feel the tingling tension mounting in every muscle in his body, heat coiling in his belly, but he doesn’t want to come first; Hanamaki still looks way too coherent for his liking. He leans back on his heels and readjusts Makki’s hips while Makki looks on, raking his nails down his biceps. Matsukawa shudders, then plants his elbows on either side of Hanamaki’s head, kissing his forehead.

            “Why the hell did you- _hoooooly fuck-_ “ He’s found it. Hanamaki’s now clawing at his back, putting the moans from a few minutes ago to shame as Matsukawa thrusts deeply and evenly, dragging across his prostate. When Makki reaches in between them to stroke himself, Matsukawa smacks his hand away, snapping his hips forward harder and faster. He reaches underneath Hanamaki’s shoulders once again to hold him in place so he won’t smack his head against the wooden headboard.

            “Come for me again, babe,” Makki’s ever-increasing moans are suddenly replaced by a soft ‘ _ah,_ ’ and he comes white-hot over his chest, blinded by waves of pleasure. Matsukawa breathes out several curses, fucking Makki through his orgasm, gaze fixated on the way his face relaxes as his eyes flutter open again. Hanamaki bites his lip coyly. His half-lidded eyes meet Matsu’s and then Matsu’s falling over the same precipice, spilling within Makki with a loud cry. He pushes his hips against Hanamaki’s as hard as he can, eyes screwed shut, his grip slackening when hands caress either side of his face. Matsu exhales, pulling out of Makki carefully. They both smile.

            “I’m so pissed at you.” Hanamaki states matter-of-factly. Matsukawa flops onto him, exhausted.

            “Why?”

            “I whited out.” Issei’s eyes go wide.

            “Shit, really?”

            “Yes.” Matsu snorts, biting Makki’s chin playfully.

            “And why is this a bad thing?”

            “Because I’m not sure it can get any better than this.”

            “What you’re telling me is that you’re _disappointed_ that you just had the best orgasm of your life.” Matsu deadpans. All Makki can do is nod solemnly.

            “Plural. Orgasms.”

            “I can’t say I’m really mad about it.” Matsukawa presses their lips together, grinning into the kiss. “I came hard that time, too. Well, I always do. You’re a great lay, Takahiro.”

            “Is that all I am now, hm? Just a great lay?” It’s hard for Hanamaki to sound angry when Matsukawa’s thumb is tracing the lines of his face tenderly, his sharp eyes watching him like he’s the only thing on the planet that matters.

            “Not _all_. Just…mostly.“ Makki smacks his ass and they both start chuckling. “I love you.” Matsu nuzzles Makki’s neck, pressing tiny kisses under his chin and just below his ear.

            “I guess I love you too.” Makki grumbles, smiling from ear to ear.

            “All kidding aside, you’re incredible. Thank you.”

            “What are you thanking me for, you weirdo? The fact you’ve got my sexy man juice all over your chest?” Matsukawa backs up.

            “What have I told you about calling it that?”

            “Why do you think I insist on calling it sexy man juice?”

            “It’s not juice! You _drink_ juice.”

            “So you’re telling me that you’ve never swallowed?” Hanamaki wiggles his eyebrows. “I do recall a time not twenty minutes ago…” Hanamaki’s raucous laughter drowns out Mastukawa’s stammered rebuttal. Matsukawa flicks on the lamp by their heads, squinting into the brightness.

            “Let me get us cleaned up from your _sexy man juice_.” Matsu shudders at the phrase, clambering off Makki and the bed. Takahiro reaches weakly after him, still chuckling.

            “Thanks.” He says simply.

            “Hm?” Matsukawa turns, one hand on the doorjamb.

            “For taking care of me.”

            “Just returning the favour, handsome.”

 


End file.
